The Other Side of the Same Ocean.

There is something so magical about being in a new place. 

Exploring and discovering new parts of a new city. 

With each step discovering and creating a new side of myself. 

Thailand feels like a dream, 

though I think of it often. 

I've now forgotten the harsh words that were spoken, 

the situations that seemed to have no solution. 

I've left behind the hopelessness of it all and I've stepped into this new season of rest. 

Taking with me only everything that was good and perfect about my Thailand life. 

I miss it every day. 

Some days I smile, fondly thinking back on how silly my sweet Thai friends are.

Other days I lay in my bed sobbing because my heart so longs to be where I am most home. 

But I'm learning to be thankful when I should be angry. 

I'm learning to be okay when I want to hide from everyone. 

I'm learning that this is my life, here and now, 

and that resting is not a waste of time. 

So here I am, standing on the other side of the same ocean 

and I can't help but be thankful for that season, as hard as it was. 

I hated and loved every moment of it. 

But now there is only hope as I look forward into the unknown. 

Now there is only peace as I stand on the west coast of my home country

and become someone new. 

Comatose.

Silence. 

Longing.

Digging in an unmovable pile of rubble, searching for peace. 

Sitting on the hard bamboo, 

I breathe in the thick air of the evening. 

I look around at the vegetation, the life swarming my every side. 

I look at the sky, 

constantly shifting pastel hues melting into the inevitable blackness. 

I know I should move soon because the misquotes are starting to become unbearable, 

but I can't seem to find my composure today. 

Two more minutes, I think to myself. 

Just two more minutes and then you have to go in there. 

I let the tears flow freely, and I sink into my heartbreak, just for a moment…

Then I stand up, wipe my face clear of sorrow, and I force my feet to carry me through the door to sing melodies I'm having trouble believing lately. 

---------------------

I've been asleep. 

It all happened so gradually, 

and before I knew what was happening, my heart gave up. 

When I think back, there are many details that seem so trivial now, 

but in the moment, I genuinely wasn't sure I would make it. 

I cried a lot. 

I drank more wine than I probably should have some days. 

I spent countless hours aimlessly staring into the ocean. 

I prayed and I prayed and I prayed. 

But my heart was in a coma. 

I am in a coma. 

All the words people say, 

all the encouragement and kind sentiments, 

the many times people tell me to just keep fighting, 

they are never heard over the sounds of the respirator, or the heart monitor. 

It's been three months. 

And for the first time, I'm letting myself remember. 

I'm feeling like I'm ready to open my eyes, 

but then I remember how much light hurts after you've stared into black nothingness for so long, 

and I get scared. 

I'm scared and I'm shaky and I am all too aware of how easy it would be to just stay here in the nothingness. 

But how wasteful.

How useless is a life left strapped to a hospital bed. 

Unmoving, barely breathing. 

Silence. 

Nothing but the push and pull of the respirator. 

I don't want to stay here. 

I know everything is changed. 

Nothing will be as I left it. 

Especially my heart. 

I don't remember how to breathe on my own.

But I can already feel the lids over my eyes separating. 

They slowly peel back, 

and there is nothing but white...

Chronicles Of A Broken Heart.

It's 2:22am.

I'm sitting in my car.

I pulled over into an unknown neighbourhood when I couldn't see the road through my tears. 

I don't alway expect it when it comes, 

but tonight, I knew I would eventually disappear into a puddle of salt water. 

I've been driving around for hours, 

counting the white lines on the highway, trying to make sense of the mess I've become. 

Alas, I am no further along than when I started. 

It seems that for now, the answers still elude me. 

All I do know, is that I'm here.

And I've got to let it happen. 

Whatever it is. 

With absolutely every bit of strength, 

I continue to hold to the promise that this too shall pass. 

Whatever this is. 

And that eventually, 

I'll be okay again.

That I won't run at the thought of answering even the simplest of questions. 

That I will one day be able to talk about everything that Thailand was,

the absolutely incredible and the completely awful. 

The joy comes in the morning, right?

When I was in BC, I sat on the end of a dock and watched the sun set

as I played guitar and sang a song with those words. 

They barely made it past my lips as I fumbled around for composure, 

and I realized that it's not much consolation to know the joy comes in the morning

when I am physically, emotionally and spiritually sitting on a dock watching the sun set, 

knowing that this is just the beginning of a long, dark night. 

---------------

It's 3:47pm.

I drove around for a while and somehow ended up here. 

My phone died a while ago, and with it the music I was listening to. 

I've been left with the sound of steady raindrops. 

I watch each one hit my windshield and glide down, 

picking up other droplets of water, and then they descend and roll off my car together. 

A downward zigzag into the unknown. 

How fitting. 

I watch as my tears make their own zigzag pattern down my cheek. 

Some days I push myself too far, not knowing or understanding the new limits of my fragile state. 

I wonder how I'll ever be able to have the conversation I know needs to be had. 

The words won't come. 

And the ones that do feel inadequate. 

As if they are missing the point of what I'm trying to convey. 

The english language is so limited. 

And it frustrates me knowing that I may never be able to find words big enough to encompass everything. 

So I guess I'll just sit here a little longer and feel. 

I'll stay in this sanctuary, this little piece of refuge that is only mine. 

And I'll grasp at straws, wondering if peace will ever find me. 

--------------

It's 3:57am.

I hardly ever sleep anymore. 

I know I have to get up in a mere two hours to go to work, but I'm restless. 

Restless. 

In every sense of the word. 

I'm sitting on my bedroom floor running my hands through the worn carpet. 

I wonder if I'll ever go back to Thailand. 

If I'll ever experience all the things I dreamed of. 

The truth is, I haven't let myself think about Thailand too much. 

I don't want to let myself miss it because I don't think I could handle it right now. 

Leaving Thailand broke my heart.

More than I could ever accurately explain. 

Watching a ministry that I loved, that I fought for, that I would have readily given my life for, completely crumble on top of me and cease to exist, broke my heart. 

And now, wounded and broken, I'm trying to climb through the rubble and make my way into the daylight again. 

---------------

2:34am. 

I'm sitting on my kitchen floor. 

My back is pressed against the fridge. 

For some reason, the steady hum of electricity pulsing through it calms my anxious thoughts. 

Feeling it's rhythm of cooling, the hum and sigh, makes me feel like there's some order in my life, 

even if it is just a stupid fridge doing it's job. 

I don't know where I am tonight. 

I don't feel like myself. 

I feel like I'm laying in the middle of a desert, withered and dry, 

just waiting, hoping, praying, pleading for the rain. 

The torrential downpour that will flood around me and rehydrate my parched skin and wilted heart. 

There have been moments. 

Little droplets of hope. 

But it's not enough. 

I need to drown in the ocean that I know is coming. 

Some days I feel like I am nothing more than a pile of dry bones. 

In the end of that story, God puts everyone back together and breathes new life into them. 

I believe the bible is truth. 

So my breath of fresh air, so to speak, must be on it's way. 

But until then, 

I'll just sit here, breathing in and out, in and out, feeling the heartbeat of fridge behind me,

and hope that I'll make it through tomorrow. 

Just one day, one hour, one moment at a time. 

And slowly, little by little,

maybe I'll start to come back to life.  

Inhale.

It's cool out this evening. 

Then again, even the hottest day here would feel cool in comparison to the sticky, unrelenting heat of Phuket. 

As much as I hate being cold, it's nice to be able to wear a sweater. 

The sun is setting. 

The most beautiful mountains stand guard in every direction I look. 

I've traveled the world, and in my opinion, there are few mountains that come close to the exquisite beauty of the Canadian Rockies. 

The air feels clean. Dry. Fresh. 

I feel like for the first time in months I can actually allow my lungs to expand past the bones that cage them. 

My heart feels battered. My soul, withered. I am broken in almost every capacity. 

Yet, in this moment, I am content. 

Right here in this moment, there's nothing but the sunset, the mountains, and my broken heart. 

Inhale. Exhale. 

I think I'll stay here for a while longer... 

The Ultimatum.

I apologize for how completely distant I've been since moving to Thailand.

I have been hesitant to share the profound work the Lord has been doing in my heart because it has indeed been painful. 

And in the moments when I was eager to share, it seemed the words would not come. 

But with the changing of the tides, so comes a new season for me. 

And though I may not feel ready, the time to share is now. 

SHE Ministries has been going through a massive transition since before I arrived here in January. 

The leaders of this ministry are in burnout, and for the last 5 months have been taking a sabbatical.

That left the ministry in the hands of us four staff members and we have been struggling with upholding everything. 

I have been on a teeter totter between being okay and being very not okay for the last 5 months, 

with many contributing factors. 

But as I struggled to figure out whether my emotions were valid, 

or if it was nothing more than the constantly changing spiritual climate, 

the more I started to figure out that I have a lot of hurt, 

and that a lot of healing needs to be done in my heart. 

I have been incredibly blessed with an amazing community of 3 three beautiful women that love me so well, 

but at the end of the day,

 we don't have leaders to pour into us, 

and that has made the last 5 months incredibly difficult for all of us. 

Everything came to a head last week, 

and due to certain circumstances, I was faced with an ultimatum. 

I had the choice to stay here and flounder under the weight of something I was never meant to hold. 

I could leave SHE ministries and go somewhere else in Thailand.

Or I could go home. 

And through much prayer, 

counsel from people I love and trust, 

and the support of my 3 favourites,  

I have made the incredibly difficult decision to come home. 

I feel beat up, and broken, and I've got to take a step back and pray into what God is saying 

and where He is leading me from here. 

I don't have any money left, 

and with no financial supporters, I physically could not stay here anyway.  

I know there are many questions and many things I wish to explain, 

but I am currently unable to do so. 

And I ask for grace as I take the time I need to figure out what God has been teaching me in this season, and where to go from here. 

With everything aside, 

I do not regret this season. 

I've seen so much good in all of the hurt, 

and I trust that God knows exactly what He's doing. 

I am not leaving Thailand until June, so as I prepare to leave please be praying for me. 

Pray that I can finish strong at SHE and that God's will will be done. 

100 Days. 100%.

Yesterday marked 100 days since moving to Thailand. 

It's crazy to think that time has gone that fast. 

Some days it feels like I've been here forever, 

and others it feels as though I only just stepped off the tarmac. 

The last 100 days have been filled with more beauty than my heart can often comprehend. 

I have seen team after team come through SHE and be moved by what God is doing on Bangla. 

I've seen young men and women speak truth over ladyboys and pray healing over someone on crutches. Because of their boldness, we saw both walk away healed. 

I've stood by and prayed as a young prostitute cried into the arms of a girl the same age as her. 

I've walked down a soi that was untouchable two years ago. 

I've hugged and laughed with more bar girls than I can count. 

I've done so many things and seen God show up in so many ways… 

And as I reflect on my time in Thailand so far, 

I am in awe of the fact that I get to be here, where my heart is so alive. 

Jesus loves me so well. 

Thailand truly is home for me. 

I forget sometimes how many times I cried to the Lord, 

how many times over the last two years I prayed, asked, begged to be right where I am. 

How many nights did I lay in my bed dreaming of walking Bangla, my heart longing to be here? 

Too many to count. 

However, 

I can't stay here. 

Not without help at least. 

I currently have no one financially supporting me,

which means that I've been using my savings to live my life here in Thailand. 

I bought a moto, which was expensive, but has honestly been a huge blessing, and essential to my life here as it allows me to be mobile. 

And it will actually be cheaper in the long run given that taxis/transportation is what most of my money was going to. 

I am also currently taking Thai classes so that I can better my ministry in Patong, 

but I won't be able to take them next month without financial help.

But I know God is faithful. 

I know God is my provider. 

And as I look at the number in my bank account getting smaller and smaller, 

knowing that I don't have a single financial supporter, 

I am challenged to trust that God can provide for me 100%.

I am still human,

I still get scared some days, not knowing if I'll be able to pay rent next month.

But in the end, I have to come to a place of rest knowing that if God feeds the sparrows, 

He will surely feed one whom He dearly loves. 

And with that, 

my heart is at peace knowing that I am right where I am meant to be, 

even when things don't line up, 

even when I feel like I don't know what God is doing, 

even when I don't know where the money is going to come from. 

Cheers to the next 100 days. 

And the 100 after that. 

Cheers to God being provider, and a God of 100%. 

If you wish to financially support me and the incredible things God is doing in the red-light district of Patong, click the donate button to the right OR click the support tab at the top of the page for more info. 

A Moto Accident: Because Sometimes You Need To Be Thrown Off A Moving Vehicle To Remember How Much God Loves You.

Two nights ago, Ashley and I went on our weekly date to the mall to enjoy 

good food, some AC and each other's company. 

All was normal as we hopped on her motorbike to head home at around 8:30pm. 

We frequently talk about how dangerous the roads are here because people are just careless when it comes to driving, and when you are on a moto, well… there's just no protection at all.

The first time I ever rode with Ash, we watched a teenager fall off the back of a moto

that was not going very fast, but he was still badly hurt. 

Heck, I've even seen people just fall over on their motos and be injured. 

There are just so many risks when it comes to driving here. 

As we neared the bridge that would take us over the thin stretch of water 

that divides Phuket from Koh Sirey, I felt an urgency to pray. 

Now, I just want to preface this with the fact that I trust Ashley's driving capabilities completely. 

I wasn't feeling afraid of the way she was driving, nor was I fearful about what could potentially happen. 

I just knew I needed to pray, so I did.

I just kept repeating the words,

"Jesus, keep us safe. Get us home safe. Keep us and the bike safe."

I felt the rush of wind against my face on the open stretch of road, and repeated my prayer. 

I was in the middle of repeating it a third time when I heard Ashley yell, and felt her pull on the brake harder than usual. 

It all happened so fast. 

In a matter of seconds, our bodies were on the pavement on the opposite side of the road,

scraping against the rough tar underneath the momentum of the bike that was now on top of us.

Ashley stood up first, and it was then that I realized I couldn't move my right leg 

as it was trapped under the exhaust pipe, which should have been scorching hot considering we had just been driving for half hour. 

The man who was driving the car that unexpectedly pulled out in front of us without looking 

came running over, and he was the one who lifted the bike off of me. 

When I stood up, I immediately reached for my forearm expecting to find blood, 

but instead found only pebbles from the road imprinted into my skin.

I looked at Ashley completely dumbfounded at what had just happened and asked if she was okay. 

The man kept saying "so sorry! so sorry!" 

and in my shocked state, all I could do was look at him and shake my head. 

He started the bike again to make sure it was still working and then he adjusted the mirror, 

the only thing that was out of place on the entire bike. 

He kept apologizing profusely and Ashley told him in Thai to drive slowly and that this was not good. 

He apologized again before he got in his car and sped away. 

Ashley and I asked each other about ten more times if we were okay and then hopped back on the bike. 

During the two minute drive home from the site of the accident, 

I couldn't stop marvelling at the fact that we were almost completely unharmed. 

It doesn't make any sense. 

We should have been seriously injured. 

I remember feeling my arm scrape against pavement, yet there is only a bruise and a few scratches to show for it. 

Not to mention the fact that we were laying on the opposite side of the road and there was absolutely NO TRAFFIC coming, which is completely unheard of here. 

It's nothing short of a miracle.

There is no doubt in my mind that Jesus kept us alive. 

And as I laid in my bed praising Him for the fact that I was alive and could feel pain in my bruised elbow, God began to speak to me about where my heart has been the past couple months.

He reminded me of all the promises He spoke to me.

He reminded me that my heart for Thailand is His heart for Thailand.

He reminded me that I am loved, and that I am heard, and that

He is deeply honoured when I choose to worship Him in the midst of all the chaos and the unknown. 

And I guess when you're so caught up in what's going on and aren't listening, 

Jesus will throw you off a motorbike to remind you of how much He really does love you.